Frost on the mine's rocky walls gleamed with a cold blue light. Lu Zhao pressed his back against the slick, damp stone, ice cones gathering in his palm, poised to strike.
"Squeak!"
The instant the Rat King lunged from a fissure overhead, three ice cones sealed off its retreat in a triangular formation. Cold exploded outward, scattering ice crystals.
Another shrill scream rang out. This was yet another Rat King he had hunted down over the past six days, while his kills of ordinary Spirit-Devouring Rats numbered close to a hundred.
Fortunately, these demonic beasts bred at an astonishing rate and were worth little. Otherwise, how could there have been so many for him to kill?
He now had eight Rat King teeth, four intact Rat King corpses, and several hundred ordinary Spirit-Devouring Rat carcasses-his storage bag was nearly full, and he had even begun considering whether to refine some of the materials.
At dusk after the seventh day, Lu Zhao finished his daily cultivation and went to a secluded riverbank where he usually practiced his spells.
A quarter of an hour later, he gazed at his bedraggled reflection in the water, carefully going over the essentials of the Wind-Riding Art.
This attempt had been his closest to success.
Azure currents had barely lifted his feet, only to clash with the spiritual power converted through the Little Spirit Rain Art when he reached thirty feet above the ground. The spell had failed instantly.
He had fallen from midair, his protective spiritual light shattering as he slammed into the ground.
Over the past seven days, aside from his unshakable daily routine of cultivation and hunting Spirit-Devouring Rats, he had devoted almost all his remaining time to comprehending the Wind-Riding Art.
He had thought that with his aptitude for comprehension, grasping the basics would not be difficult-he had mastered the Ice Cone Art in just three days, though it was no easier to cultivate than the Wind-Riding Art, and had grasped the basics of other spells in a single day.
"Looks like conflicting attributes are more troublesome than I imagined," Lu Zhao muttered.
Even so, he decided to continue cultivating this movement art. For now, his combat strength still depended primarily on spells.
For instance, on this trip to Green Vine Ravine, traveling would have been much easier if he had cultivated the Wind-Riding Art to an advanced level.
Yesterday, he had made a special visit to Fellow Daoist Chen Jianghe, who was recuperating in the medicine hall. He had learned a good deal from him about the garrison's circumstances and had already planned his route to Green Vine Ravine.
Early the next morning, the morning mist froze into icicles hanging from the Market District's eaves.
Lu Zhao walked along the bluestone-paved street. A cold wind swept past, and he pulled his blue-gray cloak tighter around himself.
This was the standard magical robe issued to the Zhou Household's guest retainers when they traveled. Though it was only a magic artifact of the lowest grade, it could conceal one's aura to a slight degree.
After he activated the robe, the cloud patterns embroidered on its cuffs gleamed faintly in the dawn light, then faded moments later.
His figure seemed to grow a little fainter; without a close look, it was almost as though he had never been there.
He glanced back one last time toward the cold pool, where the rising mist churned just as it had when he first saw it three years ago.
He followed the thirty-foot-wide bluestone road into the depths of the mist. Demonic beast claw marks scarred the crooked Market District boundary stones on either side, telling of this land's dangers.
Just three li outside the Market District, Lu Zhao took out a packet of powder and sprinkled it over his puppets' joints.
This was a secret beast-repelling method taught to him by an old demonic beast hunter. Made from the dung of a mid-tier demonic beast, the powder could frighten off ordinary, unranked demonic beasts.
Withered grass stirred without any wind as three puppet guards darted from his sleeve, scouting ahead in a triangular formation.
Memories of hunting demonic beasts with Wang Yun quietly resurfaced. Back then, he had always trailed at the rear of the group, breaking into a cold sweat at every unusual movement.
Now, the clicking of his puppets' claw tips against loose stones was more reassuring than even his own footsteps.
As he skirted Rosy Cloud Slope, he hurried through the shadows along the rock crevices.
Bandit Cultivators had attacked here last month, supposedly the work of the Three Blackbone Owls.
This three-man bandit gang had gained considerable notoriety in recent years, all because they excelled at using Blackbone Magic Artifacts, employed ruthless methods, and singled out lone cultivators.
Suddenly, all the rat puppets turned at once. Lu Zhao immediately formed a hand seal and activated the Vajra Talisman at his waist.
The instant a pale golden barrier rose around him, three poisoned iron caltrops struck the ground just three inches in front of his feet.
"You certainly don't mind spending money." Lu Zhao gave a cold laugh.
The Vajra Talisman could withstand a full-force strike from a cultivator at the Middle Stage of Qi Refining. Seeing that the ambush had failed, his attackers did not linger and swiftly retreated.
He slowly lowered the Wind-Riding Talisman in his hand.
Bandit Cultivators of this sort were the most cunning. They often withdrew swiftly after a failed strike, and pursuing them only made it easier to fall into an ambush.
As the sun climbed to its zenith, he relied on his experience to find a cave sheltered from the wind.
Blackened traces of campfires remained on the cave walls, but he still chose to gnaw on cold, hard yellow sprout cakes-lighting a fire in the wilderness was tantamount to showing demonic beasts the way.
Three rat guards kept watch at the entrance, the eerie light shifting through their compound eyes blending with the moss in the rock crevices.
Passing through the forest of rotting leaves was the hardest part. Hidden bog holes lay beneath years of fallen leaves, and the slightest carelessness could send him sinking into one.
Lu Zhao held two fingers together like a blade and sliced off a dry twig. Dipping it in realgar powder, he drew poison-repelling talisman patterns on the soles of his boots.
This was a crude method he had learned from beast-hunting cultivators. Though inferior to poison-warding pills, it could fend off the blood leeches that emerged from the rotting marsh.
When twilight soaked through the clouds, his day's trek finally came to an end.
In the distance, the outline of Green Vine Ravine emerged in the darkness.
Within the secluded valley hemmed in by two mountains, underground rivers roared like rolling, muffled thunder.
Lu Zhao took out the token bestowed upon him by the Zhou Household. The instant he infused it with spiritual power, a gap suddenly opened in the mist ahead.
The sight at the valley floor made his pupils contract slightly.
Mist shrouded this place year-round, and the air was damp and faintly cool. The mountains were formed of ancient dark rock, their surfaces covered in dark green moss and mottled vines. Numerous waterfalls plunged from the clifftops, gathering into winding underground rivers at the valley floor.
The entire ravine was about ten li long, with a varying width: its narrowest point was only about ten feet across, while its broadest stretched over a hundred feet. Jagged rocks crowded both banks, interlocking like canine teeth and tearing at the earth like beasts' claws. The water was black as ink and flowed at tremendous speed, occasionally churning into whirlpools as though it would swallow everything.
The records' description of "underground rivers like a spider's web" had not been exaggerated at all.
No wonder the Ink-Scaled Snakes could come and go without a trace.
A blue-robed cultivator emerged from a stone house. The jade token at his waist resonated with the one in Lu Zhao's hand, emitting a faint glow.
"Thank you for making the journey. You must be tired. I'll explain the assignment procedures to you tomorrow."
With that, he pointed toward several stone houses to the southeast. "Those are unoccupied. You can choose whichever one you like."
After a brief inspection, Lu Zhao chose one of them.
The stone chambers here were more spacious than he had imagined. The one he chose was a full hundred feet long and eighty feet wide, and had been divided into three rooms.
The walls were decorated with a pale blue stone that gave off a faint coolness.
At the sight of the house, he already had a plan: the left room would replace his cellar as a workshop for refining puppets; the middle would serve as his main bedroom and cultivation chamber; and the right would be a reception area.
Sitting cross-legged in the center of the cultivation chamber, he slowly drew spiritual energy into his body through the Little Spirit Rain Art.
A Spirit Gathering Formation had clearly been laid here, drawing upon the power of a Spirit Spring.
The spiritual energy was far denser than at the cold pool. After one complete circulation, the four strands of true qi in his meridians trembled gently.
"If I cultivate here with Cold Jade Pills, I might reach the threshold of the fifth level in less than two years..." The corners of Lu Zhao's mouth lifted slightly.
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